


Void Math

by Jonn_Wolfe



Series: Rose River Alternate Universe [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2897552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonn_Wolfe/pseuds/Jonn_Wolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the Family of Blood, then later before Turn Left. First Martha, then Donna, help an obsessed Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Void Math

## *Chapter 1*: A Kick in the Right Direction

* * *

_Post Family of Blood_

* * *

The TARDIS was petrified. While she knew that everything would be better soon - _well, soon for her anyway_ \- being reunited with her Beloved was wonderful and absolutely terrifying at the same time. If she didn't know any better, he was still wearing his leather armor instead of the multiple layers of cotton and wool.

Three months of her Beloved enduring mortality in order to hide from the parasites that wanted to consume his artron energy; Three months of silence that was only broken by Martha coming to visit every so often for comfort and support.

She almost told her when Martha breathed in resignation about him falling in love with a human and it wasn't her; nearly revealed her avatar to tell her that he would never be hers; nearly told her about the man that would become more important to her than the air she breathed.

She couldn't though. Mustn't, lest she stunt Martha's emotional growth; set back her Beloveds numbing recovery from his loss to decades instead of months; resulting in him missing crucial points that would both reunite him with his starlight salvation and save the multiverse all at once.

* * *

When they came for him he was human.

When he came for them he was the Storm Unleashed.

* * *

The last time she saw her Beloved like this was just before he got those ghastly ears of his. Once so gentle, the man who finally opened his heart to people closed so tightly that there was no room for even the merest hint of mercy. His mercy died at the Battle of the Nightmare Child and the loss of his only brother Braxatiel. There was no more singing in the console room. He'd shaved the locks of hair that she loved so much this time around, and donned the first of his leather armors. It was a deep navy colour; the colour of midnight and the heart of death itself.

He became the Oncoming Storm and his rage rent a swath of destruction through the universe that both impressed and terrified the risen Rassilon, who feared the return of his friend and rival: The Other. Now as before, there was no love, no passion, no remorse, no mercy. He had become death, giving the Family of Blood their Eternal Nightmare: Living forever in places where they could do nothing but scream their madness and torment.

The absolutely _only_ consolation she had at the time was that those damnable chains that were forged in the heart of a dwarf star were finally gone for good. They were so densely pact with neutrons, bosons, and quarks, that they mucked up her temporal regulators after he'd acquired them from the Mechrons during the war. While she should apologize to Jackie for that lost year, she knew it was for a good reason and had to keep that secret to herself for a while longer.

Only after her Beloved and Martha visited Timothy as an old man did they retreat to the vortex to recuperate. Martha, for all her bluster, was knackered and exhausted from her three month vigil. So the Doctor let her rest in whatever way she liked while they drifted in the vortex. It was a time that he retreated to a room that was just as locked up and away as his own bedroom.

The Doctor spent forty eight hours curled up on Rose's bed, weeping, sobbing, and telling the empty room what he'd done. Every time he asked for forgiveness, his ship swelled in his mind with understanding and comfort.

When it happened, he thought his beloved ship had made an error in judgment. In reality, it pained her to have to do what must be done. Sitting up on the bed, the Doctor clutched one of Rose's blouses to his face, inhaling the fading perfume and scent of her perspiration. "I need her!" he wailed at the top of his lungs.

The lights in the room died, and he felt soft arms hold him from behind. "I'm here," an impossible voice whispered in his ear.

The Doctor spun around, instantly changing his eyes to register the upper ultra-violet end of the spectrum and swore with a shriek. Jumping away from the bed, he backed up to the wall and shouted at her. "Don't you _ever_ fucking do that to me again! You are _not_ her, goddammit!" Even as he protested at this cruel display, he couldn't help but be aroused by the nude mirage before him.

"Part of her will always be in me, Beloved," the TARDIS soothed in Rose's voice. "Just as a part of me will always be in her. I love you, and will do _anything_ for you... even this."

"It's not the same! You _know_ that!" he protested angrily.

He watched as not-Rose's face morphed into the glare that he'd only seen on Jackie's, usually just before her hand connected with his left cheek. "Then get off your daft backside and _do_ something about it! _Use_ that bigger-on-the-inside brain of yours and find a way to bring me _back_!" It so disturbed him at how much that sounded like Rose, that he briefly believed it was actually her.

Not-Rose vanished and the lights came back on, causing him to swear and squint while he changed his eyes back to the visible spectrum. Staring at the bed, an equation began to swim in his vision. He had thought it impossible, but if the TARDIS was kicking him into it then it must have an answer. Rutigen's Enigma Equation _did_ have a solution, he decided. Of course it did! It must! She wouldn't have been so damned cruel otherwise!

The Doctor forced the emotional chaos out of his mind, and strode purposely from Rose's room. He was going to get Rose back or go completely mad in the attempt.

Rooms that were miles away from both her Beloved and his companion sounded the tears of the TARDIS as she cried heavily. She _hated_ doing this to him, but there was no other choice. The future depended on it.

* * *

 

## *Chapter 2*: The Madness of Math

* * *

Martha woke up with a groan. She'd slept so long that she had a cramp in her neck the size of London. Confusingly, she looked around her bedroom and slowly came to the realization that he hadn't come to wake her up again. The only thing she actually hated about the Doctor was his completely loony views on sleep, even after she described - in detail - the dangers of sleep deprivation.

Shrugging and wincing from the motion, she stumbled into her bathroom and flipped V's at the mirror. She knew she looked wretched and didn't like the reminder. Slipping out of her bedclothes, she climbed into the shower and let the water beat the kink out of her neck.

Where was he? The more awake she got, the more worried she became. It had to have been a week since she last saw him. That they were in the TARDIS didn't matter. His absence was beyond unusual. Shower done and loo matters taken care of, Martha spent the next thirty minutes in an attempt to relax the natty. This morning though, her hair proved to be difficult. Giving up, she put it in several hair bands and simply let it stick out every which way from the back of her head.

She'd spent the past several days simply trying to find him. The fact that he'd gone missing on his own ship worried her immensely. However, every time she tried finding him, it was almost like the ship herself steered her towards the more familiar areas she was used to. It was maddening.

This morning though was different. After a simple breakfast of grape jam on toast, Martha was wandering towards the media room to catch up with her shows. Plopping on the couch with a heavy sigh, she traded her cup of tea with the remote on the coffee table and turned on the wall.

Instead of the usual plethora of channels that would appear, a small section in the middle started flashing purple. No, that's not right. That's more mauve than... Wait. The Doctor said mauve was bad. Now that her attention was on high alert, the flashing stopped only to be replaced with 'Hello Martha'.

"Doctor? What are you playing at?"

The words changed. 'I'm not the Doctor.'

"Well, who else would be playing silly buggers?"

Echoing pings, warbles, and hums sounded off in a cacophony of noise, and Martha looked around with wide eyes. She was drawn back to the flashing screen and read, 'Understand?'

"Okay... Yeah... Sure..." she said, completely unnerved.

'He needs your help.'

Martha stood up like a shot. "Is he hurt?"

'He will be soon if he doesn't stop. He's become so obsessed that he won't listen to me anymore.'

"Are you going to actually let me find him this time?" she asked accusingly.

'I'm sorry for that. Yes.'

Pursing her lips at the screen, Martha left the room in a bit of a huff. Coming into the hallway, the lights on her left shut themselves off. Looking to the right, she could see that the next connecting hallway was lit only on the left bend. Getting the idea, she took off in a small trot and let herself be led by the ship. A few twists and turns later, she found herself at a dead end.

"Now what?" she muttered.

As soon as she said that, a door slowly became visible. Unlike the uneven curved ones that she usually saw, this one looked like a simple wooden door. It even had a doorknob. Turning it, she stepped into a room that made her mouth drop open.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Console, living, library, kitchen, media..." she counted on her fingers. "And now a chalkboard room?"

The room itself was massive, and looked to have at least three different levels. Looking down, she could see the other two. It somewhat reminded her of the library, what with staircases and chairs dotting the area. Instead of rows of bookshelves though, chalkboards were in their place and reminded her of those rolling ones at Uni... only much much bigger.

It was completely quiet in here, almost. If she listened hard enough, she could almost make out the sound of chalk scribbles. "Doctor?" she called out. The scribbling didn't even pause at that. The acoustics were so terrible here she couldn't tell where they were coming from. And with the way her voice carried, there was no way of knowing where he was.

Searching the first two levels was relatively easy though, what with them being rings and all. However, she couldn't help but stare at the diagrams and scribblings on the chalkboards. They were actually beautiful in their complexity, and she could see his handwriting all over the place. Well, that was stupid. She felt a pang of jealousy over his pretty handwriting, and came to the conclusion that he couldn't be a real doctor. No doctor's handwriting was ever that pretty, including hers. It made her sick.

The writing on the second level wasn't quite as pretty as the first level. This looked a bit more blocky. A glint from below drew her attention to the floor, and she gasped as she snatched up the Doctor's glasses. He never took these off when he was working on something important. "Doctor!" she tried again.

Running down the second flight of stairs, she started searching more frantically. Unlike the other two levels, this one was a maze. After spending a few minutes running herself ragged, she stopped and slapped her forehead. Rolling her eyes, she knelt down and looked under them - through the legs of these insane things.

Martha was almost turned completely around, when she spotted his white trainers on the far side of the room. Grinning in triumph, she stood up and made her way through the maze in that general direction. She came up short when she noticed his brown blazer lying haphazardly on one of the leather chairs, completely dusted up with chalk. A few turns later she found his tie.

Finally, the Doctor came into view and she smiled. "There you are!" Seeing the state of him made her smile drop as her mouth hung open. "Oh my God." Looking around at the writing on the boards, she could see quite plainly how sloppy it all was. The ship was right, he's in trouble.

The Doctor's shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and actual sweat stains radiated down from his armpits. The blue of the shirt was just as dusted with chalk as his trousers were. Instead of the spiky hair she loved to imagine running her fingers through, it was matted down with sweat and chalk, almost like a plaster.

A glint of gold got her attention, and she turned to look past him. Her eyelids disappeared when she saw a golden apparition of a woman that was crying. Martha's gasp at the sight caused the woman's head to turn and look at her, mirroring her expression of shock. Martha gaped as this golden ghost pointed at the Doctor and mimed grabbing and pulling. The motion must've done something, because she vanished while pulling.

Unnerved, she stepped closer and got a look at the side of the Doctor's face. She felt her heart come up into her throat at the sight of him. The feral look he had as he wrote scared her even more than the ghost did. His eyes were completely bloodshot and sunken in. "Doctor?" Next to him now, she placed a hand on his shoulder and tried again. "Doctor, you need to stop. You're dehydrated. When was the last time you ate anything?"

The Doctor shrugged her hand off and turned around to another chalkboard. He was mumbling something unintelligible the entire time, and looked to be the epitome of a lunatic.

Frowning now, she understood why the ship asked for help. Using both hands, she grabbed his arm and shoulder and pulled. "Doctor stop!"

He whirled around at that and turned his feral glare towards her. Shocked, she could only gape at the darkness in his eyes when he thundered his displeasure. "I HAVE TO GET HER BACK!" Martha could swear she felt the floor vibrate from his voice alone. "NOW FUCK OFF!"

Scared as she was already, the swearing caused her to involuntarily slap him. "Doctor!" she shrieked.

The slap must've had an effect, because she saw the brown of his eyes return as his face fell slack. And it looked like he even recognized her. He quietly said, "Martha?" and blinked rapidly before fainting outright.

"Whoa!" she shouted, catching him. Wiry as he was, he was still heavy. So all she could do was not let him hurt himself as he fell. "Shit," she mumbled. Wiping chalk caked sweat from his forehead to clear a spot, she kissed him and tried not to cry. "What have you done to yourself?"

* * *

 

## *Chapter 3*: Dragging and Shots

* * *

Martha was beside herself. The Doctor looked absolutely _horrible_ and had just collapsed. She'd kissed him, but that was his forehead and not nearly as nice as that first one when they met. Then his exclamation rattled in the back of her mind and she sat up like a gunshot went off.

"Get her back?" she whispered. "Who?"

The Doctor groaned and seemed to answer her, even though he was still unconscious. "Rose," he said breathily and incoherently. _Well of course it'd be her_ , she thought bitterly.

Sitting back on her heels, she turned her head and looked to where that ghost was. Something sparked in her head, and she looked at all the boards. "No way," she said under her breath. Her eyes popped as wide as they'd ever been, and she cupped her hands over her mouth in shock. "Oh God, she's dead and he's..." she paused, wiping her eyes. "He's... he's _mourning_... no wonder he ..."

She looked down at him with sorrowful pity all over her face. "Oh you can't raise the dead, Doctor," she murmured in a shaky voice, rubbing the side of his face. "No amount of math can do that, love."

Martha sat back again and wiped her eyes. Okay girl, get a hold of yourself. You're a doctor, _almost_ , and you've got a patient. A stupidly stubborn one, sure, but he's still your patient. First thing's first, how to get him to the infirmary? Looking around, her eyes landed on a rolling chair. That might work, but those stairs were going to be a problem.

Almost as soon as she thought that, a doorway materialized in the wall with a crackle. Getting up, she wheeled a chalkboard aside and grinned. "Thanks." There was some warbling and she assumed it meant 'you're welcome'. Then it rose in pitch, and she concluded that meant 'hurry up'. Martha didn't know it, but she was right on both counts.

Pulling the chair over, she found out how difficult it was to lift dead weight. On top of that there was the whole moving chair thing, so the whole ordeal was complicated. A stroke of brilliance flashed, and she pushed the chair to the wall. _Then_ she sat him in it. God, she was tired now.

Once again, the ship guided her via the overhead lighting, and she made good time getting to the infirmary. Wrestling him onto a bed, she stood up with a look of shock. "I don't even know his anatomy! What the hell am I supposed to do?"

The lights dropped down, and something resembling a spotlight shone on one of the cabinets. She hurried over and opened it, then went about collecting things that the TARDIS showed her via that spotlight. Dragging a tall wheeled table over, she dumped the mess on it and brought it over to the bed.

This part she knew by rote. Upending a rather old fashioned I.V. bottle, she speared it with the tubing and hung it up on the rod behind the bed. She was going to remember that word on the label, even though she couldn't hope to pronounce it. Whatever it was had to be good for the Doctor, though.

Alcohol swab to the arm, she wrapped a rubber tourniquet around it and felt out for a vein. When it popped up, she waited for the fluid to reach the needle, then stuck it in rather efficiently. Taping it to his arm, she adjusted the screw below the bottle to give a good pull, but not too much to shock him. Removing the tourniquet, she surveyed her work.

Satisfied, she smiled with a relieved sigh. Then the lights dimmed again, and she went over to another lit up cabinet. Opening the drawer, she stepped back from all the little bottles of pharmaceuticals and was completely lost. The spotlight changed to a laser pointer and pointed at three different bottles. Collecting them, she grabbed a syringe and went back to the bed.

Stopping, she realized something. Light can't tell you anything. Looking up she asked the obvious question. "How much of each?"

Static noise got her attention, and she went to the counter next to the door. The screen embedded in it lit up with names and CC's. Rather than trying to memorize that, she brought the stuff over and filled the syringe with what the screen said, then shook it to mix them together. When it changed to a mild green color, she looked at the screen again. "That good?" and the screen changed to a single word: 'Yes.'

Back at the bed, she plunged the stuff through the secondary access on the tubing and watched it snake down to his vein. Once it hit his bloodstream, the tension left his face. Looking up again, she asked "Anything else?" Nothing happened. "Okay." She found a chair and plopped into it, somewhat exhausted.

A shimmery sound came from her right, and she saw her teacup on the table next to her. Giggling, she took it and found that it was still pleasantly hot. "Oh thanks," she said, just before drinking.

Setting her cup down, she looked at the Doctor and sighed. Well, the least she could do is clean him up a bit. Get the chalk out of his hair at the very least...

* * *

The Doctor woke up with a start. _Why am I in the infirmary?_ he wondered. Taking personal stock of himself he found that he had a drip in his arm, his eyes hurt, and his head was decidedly damp. Okay? _'Dear? What the hell is going on? Did I fall down or something?'_

 _Something like that, yes,_ the ship replied.

Pointing at the bottle behind him and holding up the arm with the drip in it, he asked _'Did you do this?'_

_No. Martha did._

_'Bugger.'_ Okay, time to do something nice for her. Maybe a London shopping spree or something equally horrendous. He shuddered at the thought and went to go make himself presentable.

* * *

Nothing much was said after he got them to the console room, save a small 'thanks' from the Doctor. To which she replied, 'Don't mention it.' So he didn't. When they stepped out of the TARDIS he frowned, not recognizing the neighborhood.

"Doesn't look like the square," Martha said with a bit of mirth.

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well... at least the year's right," he muttered.

It looked like they were in the back of an unkempt garden. The foliage was growing all over the place, and the very large house they were looking at the back of was beyond disrepair.

The Doctor got Martha's attention by talking rather loudly. "Oh look Martha, it's now!" he said like a little kid who's favorite show was coming on.

She turned around to look at his back, then came around to see what he was looking at. "What's now?"

Before them both was a rather large statue of an angel. She glanced at the Doctor, and noticed his eyes were closed. "What's going on?" she asked, looking at the statue again.

When she blinked, they were in 1969 and she was giving her breakfast back.

* * *

 

## *Chapter 4*: Opening Up

* * *

_Set between 'Midnight' and 'Turn Left'.  
_

* * *

Coming to awareness, Donna rolled over in her bed and slowly sat up with a completely bleary look on her face. Wincing, she rubbed at the left side of her nose, then pulled gently at her hair. When the stubbornly locked sinus cavity relaxed, she snatched a tissue from the bedside table and cleared her nose.

Smacking her lips, she stood and made her way to the loo. After taking care of the obvious use for the room, she opened her mouth to stare at her tongue in the mirror. Making a face at what she saw, she shed her bedclothes; snatched her toothbrush and paste from the sink; then entered the shower stall.

Becoming more awake as she did her teeth under the spray of water, she remembered the look on the Doctor's face from when they saw each other again at the resort and frowned. He wouldn't talk about it, but she could tell that it spooked him... A lot. Even went on to say he needed a holiday from their holiday, not that she blamed him.

That was a couple of days ago, and he'd been mysteriously absent since. Drying herself off with her humongous fluffy towel, she thought back to what Martha told her while making herself presentable for the day.

* * *

Messaline left in the future, the trio of Time Travellers were in the kitchen to douse the hurt with Dushanbe Tea: a native blend from Oolong IV, much to the girls' amusement. From the tragedy, Martha and Donna tried to be as consoling as possible. The Doctor lasted all of three minutes before he excused himself – his tea left untouched on the table.

Martha sat back in her chair and sighed, watching the Doctor leave in a purposeful wandering meander. "It's amazing that he still does that, the git." Grumbling, she retrieved the kettle to refill her cup.

"Does wha'?" Donna asked as she held her cup out for a refill of her own. "Abruptly leave the room when anyone tries to psychoanalyse him? Personally, I think any shrink worth their salt would end up in the loony bin after half a session with the man."

A snorting giggle bubbled out of Martha. "Yeah. I just wish he'd actually open up and let it all out. I mean, I know he's still devastated. Who wouldn't be? But, I don't think keeping everything locked inside will be good for whomever's around when it explodes."

Donna started rotating her cup on the table with her thumbs, not saying anything for a bit. Sighing, she tilted her head and took a sip. "He kinda did."

Looking up in confusion, Martha prodded her for more information. "How so?"

"D'you remember when the Thames was drained?" she asked, still staring at her cup.

Martha blinked. "That was you two? Why am I not surprised?" she smirked.

"Yeah," Donna sighed. "That was when I first met him, before he took you round the trolley. Flippin' big red spider lady, wanting to hatch her children and eat damned near everything. He gave her a chance to stop, then drowned the lot when she 'respectfully declined'." She shuddered. "Terrified me. That's why I said no the first time. If I hadn't told him to stop, I think he would've gone in the drink with them."

Staring at her own cup, Martha was reminded of when he stood up to the Daleks and demanded they kill him. "Yeah. He's got some real issues."

"Haven't we all," Donna stated rather than asked.

Grinning slightly, Martha looked up at her. "Word of warning: Don't let him get obsessed with arithmetic."

Donna blinked at her. "Do wha'?"

Sighing, Martha took another sip. "We had a bad bout with some parasitic aliens for three months. When it was over, he hid himself away and started obsessing over some sort of equation for a bit over a week. Didn't eat, didn't sleep... it was awful."

"Sounds like him," Donna said with pursed lips.

* * *

Dried, dressed, and drooling for breakfast, Donna didn't bother looking for the Doctor. She had a somewhat light meal in the kitchen, then went to the monitor on the wall – lightly tapping it with an acrylic fingernail. "Oi. Where's Himself got to?"

The Doctor told her when she first came aboard for good that the TARDIS was alive. With how the ship did things for them all the time, it made her think of the 'old girl' as an invisible maid or something. Not that she treated her as such, mind you. The TARDIS deserved a hell of a lot more respect than that. With the way the Doctor and the ship treated each other, Donna looked at the ship more like a surrogate mother for the Doctor. She wasn't that far off in that assessment either.

Then there was the hysterical time when she got the TARDIS to do something for her. That wasn't all that surprising, but the Doctor had been floored when a wall monitor appeared and they had an actual conversation with each other over how to decorate her room: Her talking, and the ship with text responses.

The monitor popped static, then showed the word 'Research'.

"He feeding himself?" she asked. The response was a shimmer on the table. Looking over, she saw a tray of toast with a mug of tea, and a pair of bananas. "Take that as a no, then. Go on, lead me to 'im. Not gonna spend the day searchin'."

After following the overhead lighting for a bit, she came into a rather large room. Looking up, she could see two other levels of the place. Everywhere she looked, she saw all sorts of blackboards. The place impressed her, and she let out a whistle of admiration.

"Donna? That you?" she heard the Doctor call out.

Rolling her eyes, she spoke up. "Who _else_ would it be, spaceman? The TARDIS said you hadn't eaten, so I brought you something." That seemed to motivate the man, and she laughed at the sight of his head popping over one of the overhead railings to look down at her with big eyes. "Thought that'd get yer attention."

"Brilliant!" he shouted. "Stay there. There's a table we can sit at in the middle."

She frowned when he disappeared again, and looked around. Much to her amusement, several of the blackboards rolled out of the way on their own – revealing a path to the table in question. "Thanks, sweetie," she said with a grin. The TARDIS chimed a giggle at her in response.

They met in the middle, and the Doctor snatched a piece of toast before she had the chance to set the tray down. "Oi! Manners, much?" she complained, placing it on the table.

"Sorry," he mumbled around his mouthful. Sitting in an over large chair, he propped his feet up on a footstool and snatched the cup of tea that was calling him. "Ooh, brilliant. Didn't realize how hungry I was."

"So what's all this?" Donna asked, flicking her hand around the room. "Reminds me of ' _Blackadder's_ ' answer to ' _Campus_ '."

Sputtering in his tea, the Doctor sat back and laughed. "It _is_ rather twisted looking, isn't it?" Frowning, he sat back. "Mind you, I do feel a little like Baldrick, but I am _so_ close Donna. I can _feel_ it. Just... keep... _missing_ something," he said, completely frustrated.

"Wha's it about?" she asked. "S'not a new tea recipe. Tha' much's obvious." She looked over at him. "So what's with this obsession? New power source? Perpetual emotion? Trying to find out the secret ingredient in that gel you obsess with in your hair? What?"

A half grin went over his face as he looked away. "Rose," he said so quietly that Donna almost thought she imagined it.

Blinking, she looked about the room then at him. "You're still trying to get to her," she said quietly. There was a moments pause, then she saw his head slightly nod. "You love her," she stated.

The Doctor's head shot up with wide eyes at her. "It's not... I..." His hand went to the back of his neck and scrubbed madly while his lips pinched shut.

"I'm not trying to embarrass you, Doctor. Just stating a fact." She watched his eyes dart about, and was completely amused at how his gob tripped over the whole thing. Still though, seeing his look of pain at that pulled at her heart.

Even throughout her bluster over everything, she cared for the crazy alien like he was her brother. Standing up, she took two steps to stand in front of him. "Oh, c'mere you." She pulled him out of the chair and gave him a hug. "You are _so_ rubbish at this! Not gonna kill you to admit it." She heard him mumble something into her shoulder, and pulled back from the hug. "How's that?"

"I'm not..." he started, staring down and to the right. "She didn't..." Sighing, he fell into the chair with a huff. "Oh, _Hell_. Yes, dammit. Are you happy now?" he asked rather petulantly.

She looked at him in sympathy, then sat down in the chair next to him. "Was that so hard?" she gently asked.

"You have _no_ idea," he blurted. "Don't get involved with companions!" he then shouted. "I even chiselled it in stone about four hundred and fifty some odd years ago! Happened once, and it ripped me apart when she had to leave! Didn't make it any easier when I saw her again later." Huffing, he sat further back in his chair. "It... I..." he stuttered. "Fuck," he finally mumbled.

Donna blinked. "Did you just swear?" Seeing the look he gave her stilled her flippant retort. "Tell you what, Doctor. Why don't we just sit here a bit. Eat your breaky. I'll have the TARDIS get me some tea..." a shimmer interrupted them as a mug of her favourite appeared on the table. "Thanks," she grinned, then turned back to him. "Time ship; all the time in the world; and I want to know about the woman that stole your hearts."

He looked up at her in alarm, but she stilled him with a hand on his. "Stop being so stubborn about this. If you keep it in and don't talk about it, you're going to miss something Earth shatteringly important. People will die, and it'll be _your_ fault because your busy _obsessing_ ," she chastised.

Scowling at her because he knew she was right, the Doctor leaned forward and snatched a banana off the tray. They didn't say anything for a while, and it was after both bananas and half the plate of toast was empty before he spoke up again. "Met her in the basement of Henrik's in London," he said quietly. "It was her workplace, and these shop dummies started coming to life..."

Donna bit her lip and kept her mouth shut. She'd actually _succeeded_ in getting him to open up, and was completely floored about it. Leaning on the arm rest of her chair, she perched her tea on her knee and settled in to just _be there_ for her best friend. They were there for hours, while he talked non-stop.

Not once did she interrupt him.


End file.
